Crushed の小説・ストーリー

He hit me hard; harder and I couldn’t even cry. Just then, Alex, who had been stroking himself near my face, finally spilled it all over me and collapsed on the bed, weak and satisfied. Chris, on the other hand, was still fucking me. His strength seemed unnatural. He must have taken something to stay hard this long. He’d been going for over thirty minutes, yet unshaken.

With a sudden, violent movement, his fingers clenched into a fist. Crack. The sound echoed in my chest. He didn’t just break the card—he crushed it with so much force that his own skin split open. Blood dripped from his palm, bright red drops staining the cold pavement beneath him.

Dark energy crackles, lashing out. Get down! Kieran’s voice, useless and frantic, but the instinct is mine. I throw myself sideways. The corrupted earth where I stood explodes. Chunks of blighted soil rain down. The backlash hits the corrupted form. A shriek, unearthly, agonized. The carefully constructed body… fractures . Mossy skin splits, revealing writhing darkness beneath. Glowing veins rupture, spilling sickly light like pus. It stumbles back, clutching at its chest, howling. Not pain. Rage. Betrayal.

I didn’t faint. I shattered.

She merely flicked her wrist, and a wave of **Static Energy**—white, buzzing, and utterly neutral—slammed into the First Shadow. He didn't fly back. He **compressed**. His brass body was folded into a cube of crushed metal in a heartbeat, his screams cut short as he was reduced to a dense block of "Unprocessed Material." He wasn't dead, but he was no longer a player. He was just a resource.

CRACK The sound resonated through the quiet courtyard as my bones shattered upon impact, and a sharp, agonizing tear of pure torment immediately tore past my lips. I lay crumpled on the cold earth, weeping hysterically from the sheer, blinding volume of pain radiating through my spine. I couldn't move. My muscles refused to obey a single command. While my concussed mind yet pondered on how to act, how to crawl, or how to slip away into the safety of the shadows, a brutal kick descended directly into the side of my head. The sheer force of the boot almost knocked me out completely, sending a kaleidoscope of white-hot spots dancing across my vision. And then, a relentless storm of heavy blows

she’d said, "they mean I can forgive you sixty-six times. But if they ever run out, I'm leaving." I had kissed her. I had promised her. "They'll never run out," I'd sworn. "I will never give you a reason to use them." But this past year, I had dismissed her pain, again and again. "It's just a crystal. Crush it." "There are plenty more where that came from." "Feeling hurt? Crush another one. It's what they're for." I thought they were infinite. I thought she was infinite. But now, sixty-six chances had turned to dust. And I hadn’t even noticed they were dwindling.

It’s like a huge chunk of my heart has been crushed, trampled underfoot. I want to scream. I want to cry. But I don’t.